


Milk

by barbitone



Series: Captive Prince Fanfiction [11]
Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Banter, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Humor, Kid Fic, Smaurent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2021-01-16 18:29:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21275735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/barbitone/pseuds/barbitone
Summary: Auguste is bad influence and a worse friend. Somehow Berenger always gets caught up in his schemes regardless. This time- they get accosted by bandits and have to learn to change a diaper, milk a cow, and steal a horse.A horrible time is had by all. Except, perhaps, Laurent.





	Milk

* * *

Auguste was a terrible friend.

Berenger knew that, because he knew that good friends definitely didn’t wake you up in the middle of the night with a grin on their face and a ratty cloak in their hands and a mad gleam in their eyes.

“No,” he said, looking around the dark hall to make sure no one was coming.

Auguste’s expression fell. “But I-”

“Whatever it is, _ no.” _

He’d had enough of Auguste’s harebrained ideas. It was because of Auguste that they’d gotten trapped in the catacombs below the castle for two days when they were ten. And it was because of Auguste that at twelve he’d ended up with so much pine sap in his hair his father had been forced to shave it off. That had been two years ago, and it had only just gotten back to normal, and Berenger wasn’t about to risk any other misadventures.

“Fine,” Auguste said, raising his chin so he could pretend his feelings weren’t hurt. “I’ll just go by myself then.”

He turned to go but Berenger grabbed his arm in a panic. Auguste going anywhere himself was even worse. Last time he’d wandered off on his own he’d gotten captured by Vaskian bandits and it had taken weeks of negotiations to get him back. Berenger couldn’t just _ let _him go off. He was the Crown Prince and Berenger would be his Bannerman one day, once they came of age. That was like- like a body guard, almost. A friend who stood at your side always, no matter what.

“Wait,” he hissed. “Wait. I- okay. I’ll come with you.”

Auguste beamed proudly and shoved the cloak at him. “Get dressed in something simple, we’re going as peasants.”

“Going where,” Berenger asked, walking back into his room to find something to wear while Auguste plopped down on his bed.

“To the village,” Auguste said with a grin. “To meet _ girls.” _

_ “Auguste,” _ Berenger said, horrified. How Auguste could be thinking about going off to have sex was entirely beyond him. He was _ fourteen. _And- and- bastards weren’t allowed. How could he even-

Berenger didn’t understand him at all. He never thought about girls, but that’s all Auguste had been able to talk about for ages now. It was horrible.

“You know you can’t- you know-” Berenger tried, completely tongue tied.

“Don’t be daft,” Auguste said, sitting up. “I’m not going to- to- _ you know. _But I. It’ll be- fun. There’s a party. One of the serving girls mentioned. We’ll just go for a bit, maybe have a smooch or two, and then we’ll come right home. There and back, no big deal.”

The last time Auguste had said _ no big deal _Berenger had ended up stuck in a well for two hours.

There was nothing for it though. Obviously he couldn’t let Auguste go off alone.

As soon as he finished dressing and pulled on the musty cloak they headed out, sneaking through the dark hallways towards the stables. They were nearly out of the royal wing when a tiny shadow toddled out of a doorway.

“Gus!” the shadow said.

“Laurent,” Auguste groaned. “What are you doing up? You were meant to be asleep ages ago.”

“Gus!” Laurent said, a grumble of annoyance entering his voice. “Up!” He raised his little arms, curling and uncurling his fingers impatiently.

“Laurent,” Auguste said. “You’ve got to go to sleep. Come, I’ll take you-”

Laurent’s mouth trembled, his eyes growing big and watery. “Gus,” he grumbled. He was about to cry. He looked up at Berenger pleadingly. “Baba. Up.”

“No, Laurent,” Auguste said. “Come, let’s get you-”

Laurent took a deep breath, preparing to wail. Berenger watched, not moving to help at all. If they were lucky Laurent would wake his nannies and they’d get caught before this adventure took off.

“Hush, bean,” Auguste said, bending to pick Laurent up. Just like that- Laurent was smiling. Auguste took a step towards Laurent’s nursery and he was frowning again, screwing his face up in preparation for a tantrum. “Okay,” Auguste said decisively, stepping away once more.

Laurent smiled like a little angel and reached up to yank on the end of Auguste’s braid.

“Ouch,” Auguste said. Laurent giggled.

“Fantastic,” Berenger said. “Let’s call this off.”

“No,” Auguste said.

“Auguste!” Berenger said.

“Gus!” Laurent said.

“If we leave him he’ll make a fuss,” Auguste said decisively. “So we’ll take him with us.”

“You’re mad,” Berenger moaned. “You’re absolutely mad.”

“It’s fine. He’ll be a good little bean. Won’t you, Laurent?”

“Good,” Laurent said seriously, nodding.

“See?” Auguste asked.

Berenger covered his face with a groan before looking at the both of them- a matched set of golden princes. Except Auguste was dressed like a peasant in a ratty cloak and Laurent was in a nightshirt with too much frills and lace.

“He doesn’t even have _ shoes,” _Berenger said. “We can’t take him like this.”

“You’re right,” Auguste said. “Go get him some clothes.” He jerked his head towards Laurent’s nursery, where his nanny was no doubt napping.

“Right,” Berenger said, brightening with hope. He’d go in there and ‘accidentally’ make a racket. They’d be caught and this nightmare would end.

“You know what- no,” Auguste said suspiciously. “I’ll get them. Listen bean, Baba’s going to hold you for a little while, okay?”

“Baba,” Laurent said, reaching for him. Berenger took him out of Auguste’s arms, waiting in the hall while Auguste slipped away. “Baba,” Laurent repeated, taking Berenger’s face in both hands. He slapped Berenger’s cheeks gently before poking him in the mouth. “Baba.”

“Stop it,” Berenger grumbled, turning away. Except then Laurent tried to stick his fingers up his nose. _ “Laurent. _What are you- stop this instant. Stop-”

Auguste was back and laughing.

“Horsey,” Laurent said, clapping his hands together.

“Alright, hold on then.” Auguste took him out of Berenger’s arms and settled him on his own shoulders, keeping hold of his hands to make sure he didn’t fall.

Laurent laughed in delight.

“Get his socks on,” Auguste said. “They’re in my pockets.”

Berenger sighed and reached into Auguste’s pocket to get out a pair of socks, struggling to wrestle them onto Laurent’s tiny feet. Auguste had thought to grab a coat for him too, but that could wait until later.

That much done, the madness continued. It was a minor miracle the stableboys were all asleep and Berenger saddled his and Auguste’s horses while Auguste set Laurent down on a barrel to get him into his coat, cursing occasionally when the laces got twisted. By the time Berenger finished Auguste was still stuck on the laces at the back and Laurent had gotten hold of a fistful of his hair and had shoved the end of it in his mouth. Auguste didn’t seem to have noticed.

“Are you serious?” Berenger asked, rolling his eyes as he stomped over.

“This is- complicated,” Auguste grumbled. “I have- servants to do this sort of thing.”

“Move over,” Berenger said, taking Auguste’s place behind Laurent. Except as he looked at the tangled mess of knotted laces he realized he also had servants for that sort of thing. But he was fourteen, nearly a man grown. Surely he could figure out some laces.

He made a decent go of it, and although the end product wasn’t exactly pretty at least it was better than what Auguste had managed.

“Hideous,” Auguste said.

“Shut it,” Berenger said, slapping him lightly on the shoulder.

“Horsey!” Laurent said.

“That’s right, we’re going on the horsey,” Auguste said. He climbed up into his saddle before reaching down and Berenger picked up Laurent to hand him over. While they got settled Berenger mounted his own horse, and then, unfortunately, they were off.

They left the palace through a side gate, where Auguste bribed the guards for their discretion. The streets of Arles were dark and silent and before they knew it they were out in the country side.

“Do you have any idea where we’re going?” Berenger asked testily after an hour. The moon was high in the sky, the night cool but not unpleasantly so. Laurent had fallen asleep in Auguste’s arms and was drooling on his shoulder.

“Of course I do,” Auguste said, but he didn’t seem so certain. “Through the forest, past the big rock shaped like a fox…”

“I didn’t see a big rock.”

“There was a big rock.”

“Are we lost?”

“No, of course not.”

“We’re lost,” Berenger moaned. He knew it. He knew this would end terribly.

“No, we’re- ah ha!” 

They’d gotten to the top of a hill and there was a village spread out below them, mostly dark but with a few lights twinkling in lanterns hanging from doorframes.

“There, see?” Auguste said. “Not lost at all.”

Except he took them past the village and down a dirtside track even further away from civilization. There was a dark shape looming in the distance, a farm house of some sort.

“Auguste,” Berenger said nervously. He didn’t like the look of that house at all. It looked ominous and dark, abandoned. It was exactly the sort of place you’d lure some unsuspecting idiot prince to cart him off somewhere unpleasant. Which would serve Auguste right probably, but they had Laurent with them. And Berenger himself didn’t fancy being kidnapped again any time soon.

“I don’t like the look of that place,” he said.

“What’s wrong with it?” Auguste asked, frowning a little too. “It’s… a farm house. Farm houses are like that. Don’t be a snob. That’s where the party’s meant to be.”

“If there’s a party there’d be music,” Berenger said. “And lights. We should go. We really should go.”

“It’s… inside, probably,” Auguste said but he didn’t seem so certain. “And anyway, we’re already here. Might as well take a look. Stay outside if you’re scared.”

“I’m not _ scared,” _Berenger grumbled. He wasn’t. He was never scared with Auguste around, not really. Auguste was brilliant with a sword and he could talk his way out of anything, so there was nothing to be scared of. It was just an old empty building, anyway.

The serving girl was probably having a laugh, pulling a prank. They’d check out the farm house and see there was nothing there, and then they’d go home to their warm comfy beds.

They climbed off their horses, waking a sleepy Laurent who yawned and rubbed his eyes blearily. Auguste set him on the ground and took his hand. He exchanged a glance with Berenger before they stepped inside together.

The farm house was dark and silent, up until it wasn’t. The door slammed shut behind them and a torch flared up beside them- in the hands of a rough-looking man. There were six of them in all, surrounding the two princes and Berenger beside them. Some faint shuffling at the back of the house suggested there might be more.

“Of course,” Berenger said with a sigh. It was just his luck.

“Lookie here,” the man holding the torch said. His hair was a ball of grease and his breath reeked of death. “Two princes for the price of one. And a spare little lordling for good measure.”

“Yuck,” Laurent said, frowning up at the man’s yellowed teeth.

“I don’t suppose I could convince you this is a bad idea?” Auguste asked, his free hand drifting down to his sword hilt.

“You’re outnumbered, little brats,” the man said. “Give it up and we’ll go easy on you.”

Auguste didn’t know the meaning of _ easy. _This was exactly what Berenger thought would happen so they might as well get on with it. He drew the dirk from his belt and threw it hard. It lodged in the leader’s throat and he went down with a shocked little gurgle, dropping the torch.

“Ouch,” Laurent said.

Auguste had drawn his sword and managed to slay two men in the ensuing confusion while Berenger turned on one of the three who were left. He had a stilleto up his sleeve but as he grabbed for it the man punched him in the face. It felt like being kicked by a horse, sending him sprawling to the ground with a muffled cry. Auguste had slain another by then and was engaged in a fight with one of two remaining bandits.

The man who’d punched Berenger stepped over him to grab Laurent under the arms, hauling him up and stepping away.

“Stop!” he yelled. “I’ve got the boy!”

Auguste beheaded the man he’d been fighting with a burst of wild strength before pausing, breathing hard as he stared hatefully at the man who held his brother. Berenger didn’t dare move a muscle as he lay sprawled on the ground, trying to breathe through the pain blooming in his jaw.

“Stop,” the bandit said. “Or else I- I’ll-” Except he didn’t quite seem to know what he’d do now that all his companions were dead.

“Look here,” Auguste said carefully. “You let him down. Let him down right now and I’ll spare you, I swear.”

“Gus,” Laurent said. “Yuck.” And then he poked the man holding him in the eye, _ hard. _

The man made a sort of strangled noise of shock and pain, letting go of Laurent involuntarily. The boy tumbled down and Berenger threw himself forward, catching Laurent in his arms and scrambling backwards, cradling him close to his chest so he wouldn’t see as Auguste stalked forward and finished it.

For a long moment there was silence, until it was broken up by scuffling from the other end of the farm house followed by an indignant squawk. It wasn’t more enemies. It was chickens.

“Cluck cluck,” Laurent said.

Auguste crouched to wipe his sword on the shirt of the closest man before sheathing it again and starting to rummage through the dead men’s pockets. Berenger worked his jaw slowly, gratified when he didn’t hear any weird clicks and the pain didn’t seem to get worse. At least nothing was broken.

“Well,” Berenger said.

“Well,” Auguste said.

“I think you know what I’m going to say.”

“You told me so?”

“I told you so.”

“Baba,” Laurent said, raising his hand to pat his face. “Ouch.”

“I’ll be alright,” Berenger said. Auguste came over and picked Laurent up before offering Berenger a hand. He stood with a groan, dusting himself off.

They left the farmhouse only to see their horses were gone.

“Fantastic,” Berenger said. “This night just keeps getting better.”

“They must have been spooked by something, they couldn’t have gotten far.”

“Gus,” Laurent said. “Wet.”

“Crap,” Auguste said, holding Laurent away from him with a faint wrinkle to his nose.

“No,” Laurent said insistently. _ “Wet.” _

“What now?” Berenger asked, stepping closer.

“Well. Now. Now we- we-” Auguste frowned as through doing complicated equations in his head.

“Wet.”

“Now we. Change him, I suppose.”

“Great,” Berenger said. “How.”

“What do you mean _ how,” _Auguste said. “We- hmm.”

“What do we change him into?”

“Uh.”

_ “Auguste,” _Berenger hissed. He did not need this in his life. He could have been happily asleep in his own bed right now.

“Gus!” Laurent said.

“I’m sure we can figure it out,” Auguste said defensively.

“You figure it out!” Berenger said. “He’s your brother!”

“Gus, wet! Wet!”

“Okay bean,” Auguste said, setting Laurent down on the ground and crouching before him. He looked up at Berenger pleadingly.

“I hate you,” Berenger muttered and headed back into the farm house. He picked the cleanest bandit he could find and wrestled him out of his shirt. It still smelled of sweat and smoke but it had to be better than a wet nappy. Probably.

He went back out to see that Auguste had taken off his shirt and ripped it in half, using one piece of it to wipe Laurent down.

“I thought-” Berenger started, holding the bandit’s shirt awkwardly.

“That’s for me,” Auguste said absently. All his attention seemed to be concentrated on Laurent. “I’m not wrapping some stranger’s dirty shirt around my brother’s privates.”

He tossed away the dirty cloth and used the clean half of his shirt as a replacement nappy.

“Well,” he muttered. “How does this go.”

“You’re the one who untied the last one!”

“Well it’s not easy! You do it if you’re so smart!”

Laurent yawned while Berenger crouched next to Auguste. Between the two of them they managed to tie the cloth on, messy and bulky as it was. At least it was clean and dry. Auguste pulled on the bandit’s shirt.

“Let’s go look for the horses,” Auguste said.

“Great,” Berenger said.

First Auguste gave him a boost so he could climb up the wall of the farm house and crawl out onto the roof, standing carefully as the old wooden planks creaked ominously under him. The moonlight was bright enough that he could see the fields around them quite well. He could see they were empty.

“Well?” Auguste asked once he’d climbed back down.

“I don’t see them.”

“Maybe they ran off into the forest,” Auguste said, looking nervously at the shadow of the forest looming in the distance.

“I’m putting my foot down,” Berenger said. “We’re not going into the forest. We’re going to the village.”

Auguste bit his lip but he didn’t seem excited about tromping about through the dark trees so finally he nodded.

“Trees!” Laurent said with excitement and took off.

“Damn it,” Auguste said, running after him. He caught up in a few great strides and grabbed Laurent around the middle, slinging him over his shoulder and carrying him back towards where Berenger was waiting.

“Trees,” Laurent said with wet little hiccup.

“No,” Auguste said. “We’re not going in the trees. Horsey?”

Laurent made a little sound of disappointment and sagged in Auguste’s hold before wriggling around so hard Auguste nearly dropped him. “Baba!”

Berenger sighed and held his arms out, taking the little prince from Auguste.

They trudged back towards the town.

It seemed so much farther on foot than it had seemed on horseback. An hour of walking later and they still hadn’t reached it. Laurent, who’d been mostly content during the trek, started to fuss. Berenger hoped he wasn’t about to soil himself while in Berenger’s arms. He didn’t need to deal with that right now. Plus he was pretty sure his shirt was next in line for a replacement nappy and he hadn’t grabbed an extra from the bandits.

“Ah ah,” Laurent said.

“Oh no,” Auguste said. “He’s hungry.”

“We can feed him when we get back to the palace.”

“Can we?” Auguste asked uncertainly. “He’s two. How long can he wait?”

“You think he’ll die if he doesn’t eat for a few hours?”

“I don’t know,” Auguste said, his eyes wide. “Do you think so?”

It sounded pretty ridiculous, but what the hell did Berenger know?

“He’ll cry,” Auguste said, like that was the most horrible thing that could ever happen.

“What do kids even eat?”

“I don’t know. Milk?”

“Well we haven’t got any of that, have we,” Berenger said testily. “I think I have some biscuits in my pocket from dinner last night.”

“Can he have biscuits? What if he chokes?”

“Milk, then,” Berenger said decisively. “I think I saw some cows earlier, over that way.” He waved his hand vaguely towards where he thought he saw a pasture while he’d been up on the roof.

“Right,” Auguste nodded, a expression of steely determination crossing his face. “To the cows.”

They walked to the cows. Once they reached the cows it was very clear that neither of them had any idea of how to proceed from there.

“Right,” Auguste said. There was a small bucket standing next to a well just outside the fenced off pasture. He rinsed it out and held it in a tight grip as he climbed over the fence. Berenger had been planning on watching from a safe distance but Auguste’s pleading look had him sighing and climbing the fence too, careful not to dislodge Laurent who was still clinging to his neck.

They walked towards the nearest cow, chewing placidly. It was huge. Berenger had thought horses were huge but this cow was something else. It was _ broad _ for one, and boxy. A mountain of flesh. And it _ stank _to the high heavens. Laurent was fascinated, watching it with eyes like saucers.

“Right,” Auguste said. He sounded faint. He’d probably never been this close to a cow either. “So. Milk. Milk comes from cows. Where from cows."

When his sister had visited Varenne after having her baby Berenger had seen the wetnurse feed him a few times. Just glimpses, as the thought of it made him slightly queasy and he always hurried to turn away. Enough to know where milk came from in humans, at least.

“The teats,” he said with a confidence he didn’t feel.

“That’s… less helpful than you might imagine,” Auguste muttered, taking a careful circuit of the animal. Berenger helped, bending down to see if he could figure it out.

“Ah,” he said awkwardly, straightening back up. “I think we need a different cow.”

“Why?”

Berenger flushed. “This one’s got a cock.”

Auguste gasped, scandalized. “You can’t say C-O-C-K in front of the B-A-B-Y!”

Berenger flushed harder. “Let’s… let’s look over there.” He walked off deeper into the pasture without waiting for an answer. He felt awkward as he bent down to look at cow cock after cow cock, until finally he saw something that was… well it wasn’t a cock. That’s as much as he knew.

“Is this one a girl?” Auguste asked, coming up behind him.

“Maybe?”

“Moo,” Laurent said.

Auguste crouched down and contemplated the strange bulbous sack hanging down between the cow’s hind legs, the dangling appendages. He had a look of vague horror on his face.

“So those are… cow teats, you think?”

Berenger shrugged. “Maybe the long things are cow nipples?”

“Maybe,” Auguste said. He didn’t sound too sure. “How do you make the milk come out?”

“How am I supposed to know?” Berenger said sharply. “I’ve only ever seen milk in a porcelain pitcher already on my breakfast tray, same as you.”

“I don’t know!” Auguste said defensively. “Maybe things are different in Varenne! You’ve seen horses giving birth, haven’t you? Maybe you’d know!”

“That’s different. And horses only have two nipples, anyway. Not this- this- sack thing.”

“Ah ah,” Laurent said.

“I know, bean,” Auguste said with a look of profound sadness. He looked completely lost and yet firmly determined. It was admirable. Or it would have been admirable, if it wasn’t entirely Auguste’s fault that they were in this mess to begin with.

Berenger took pity on him. “Humans… uh. Humans suckle on the teats. Horses too. All animals really.”

“What are you implying,” Auguste said sharply.

“You could…” Berenger rubbed the back of his neck. “You could… you know. Uh. Suck and spit into the bucket?”

“Gross!” Auguste said, so shocked he fell back out of his crouch and onto his ass. The cow tossed her head and slapped at her side with her tail, completely unconcerned.

“That can’t be how they do it!” Auguste said incredulously. “That would mean- that would mean-” His face took on a distinctly greenish tinge. “That would mean all the milk I’ve ever drank had once been in someone else’s mouth. Someone’s _ spit _was in it.”

“Well I don’t know how they do it!”

“Anyway, if anyone here had to suckle the cow’s teats it would be _ you.” _

_ “Me?!” _

“I’m the Crown Prince!” Auguste said. “I shouldn’t be out here sucking on- on- _ teats.” _

“The only reason we’re even out here is because you wanted to suck on some teats,” Berenger hissed.

“I- I wanted no such thing!”

_ “Gus,” _ Laurent said sadly.

Auguste sighed. “Sorry bean.”

“Sorry Baba,” Laurent prompted, patting Berenger gently on his forming bruise.

“I’m sorry, Berenger.”

“Thank you,” Berenger said with a haughty sniff. 

He turned back to the problem of the cow. He vaguely remembered passing some milk maids on a horse ride a few years back. He would have certainly remembered if they’d been sucking it straight from the cow. They’d been beside the cow, sitting on low stools, their hands vaguely in range of the sack thing. 

“Maybe you can sort of… suck with your hands,” Berenger suggested.

Auguste shuddered, looking back at the pendulous nipples. But after contemplating putting his mouth on them, apparently the thought of using his hand wasn’t as revolting.

“If I die trying to milk a cow,” Auguste said morosely, “you have to promise to take care of Laurent.”

“You’re so dramatic,” Berenger said, rolling his eyes. Nevertheless, he took a few careful steps back.

He watched with barely contained laughter as Auguste, Crown Prince of Vere, knelt by the cow and gingerly reached out to wrap his hand around one of the nipples. He cringed at the first touch, as though expecting the cow to turn around and bite his arm off.

Nothing happened. The cow continued idly chewing cud.

Auguste released a little sigh of relief. He squeezed the nipple.

Nothing happened.

He squeezed harder. He pulled down a little. A pathetically small spurt of liquid came out and he looked back at Berenger with a proud smile like he’d just accomplished the impossible. Auguste tried again, pulling harder.

The cow made a low sound of distress and took a few steps forward. Auguste scrambled back in alarm. 

“I don’t think it liked that,” Berenger said dryly.

“Mooooo,” Laurent said.

Berenger knew he’d regret this, but Auguste was his friend and Laurent didn’t deserve to go hungry just because his brother couldn’t figure out how to milk a cow. “Let me try.”

_ “Please,” _Auguste breathed out gratefully.

Berenger set Laurent down on the ground. He giggled and took off running before tripping and falling face-first towards a hideously large pile of cow shit.

“Shit!” Auguste cried out and caught him around the waist, pulling him back just in time.

“Shit!” Laurent laughed.

“Oh no,” Auguste said. “Don’t say that.”

“Shit! Shit! Shit!” Laurent repeated, trying to wriggle out of his brother’s hold. No doubt so he could go play with the cow patty. “Shit! Shit! Shit!”

Berenger left them to it, turning back to the cow as though he was going into battle. He’d seen what Auguste had done. The squeezing and pulling thing had worked somewhat. He shuddered as he set his hand on the cow’s teat. It was warm. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to drink milk again.

He was slow and steady, careful. Slowly spurts of milk poured into the bucket until he couldn’t see the bottom of it anymore. The cow was getting a little annoyed but he’d only managed to get a cup or so. But Laurent was tiny, how much could he possibly need?

Finally Berenger gave up and took the bucket over to where Auguste was sitting cross legged in the grass, Laurent on his lap babbling nonsense.

“Here,” Berenger said, shoving the bucket towards him.

“I love you,” Auguste said gratefully. He looked down into the bucket with a faint frown then dipped his finger into the milk to try it.

“How is it?” Berenger asked. Did the milk maids do something to the milk before you could drink it?

Auguste shrugged and held out the bucket. Berenger tried some too. It seemed fine- oddly warm, more fatty than he was used to. Not bad, in all.

“Here bean,” Auguste said, taking it back. Laurent’s eyes lit up even as he studied the bucket suspiciously. Auguste took a pointed sip. “Yum.”

“Ah ah,” Laurent said, reaching for it. Auguste held it for him, carefully tipping it so Laurent could drink. When the boy pushed it away there were still a few mouthfuls left and Auguste offered them to Berenger with a faint smirk.

“Fruits of your labor?”

“Uh.” Berenger eyed the bucket uncertainly. But he was a little hungry too, after all this nonsense. In the end he took it and drank the rest. It wasn’t bad at all.

“Let’s head into town,” Auguste said, standing with a groan. He picked up Laurent, who seemed sleepy, or at least not fussy.

“What we need is a horse,” Berenger said. He squinted at the horizon. The sky seemed lighter now. Maybe dawn wasn’t far off.

“We could buy one in town, maybe.”

“I- do we have enough money?”

“How much could a horse possibly cost?” Auguste asked, starting back down towards where they figured the town was. “Fifty gold Sol?”

“I don’t know.”

“Your father breeds horses,” Auguste said accusingly. “Doesn’t he buy them all the time?”

“Not one at a time,” Berenger muttered. “He buys dozens. Anyway, I only have twenty sol.”

“I brought a hundred,” Auguste said. “What if it’s not enough?”

“We could… buy supplies, then,” Berenger guessed. “Walk back. We’d run into a patrol eventually. They’d take us home.”

Auguste grimaced. “I’d get in trouble with maman for sure.”

“But at least the soldiers might know how to change nappies,” Berenger said with a grin, elbowing Auguste in the side.

“True,” Auguste said, his mood improving.

It was dawn by the time they reached the village and the townsfolk were stirring. The people going about their business shot them nervous looks and Berenger wasn’t sure why. They were dressed like peasants, weren’t they? But they must have made a strange picture. Two young men and a sleeping baby. Plus Auguste carried a sword. That wasn’t exactly normal for peasants, but it had certainly come in handy so Berenger wasn’t about to complain.

They walked past an inn that smelled of freshly baked bread and cinnamon and shared a look, their stomachs grumbling in unison. They didn’t even have to speak before they turned and walked inside.

Berenger let Auguste take the lead as they walked up to the innkeep. He only knew courtly manners, and it would be a dead giveaway that they were more than they seemed.

“What can I do you for?” the woman asked suspiciously, glaring between them. “You pay up front, else you don’t get served.”

“Errr, certainly,” Auguste said. The woman’s eyes narrowed so he added, “my good lady.”

The woman’s eyes narrowed further.

“Breakfast for my friend and I, and my brother.” He pulled out a gold coin and slid it across the counter.

The woman’s mouth fell open in shock and she snatched the coin up, biting down on it. Gross. Who knew how many hands that coin had been passed through? Auguste and Berenger shared a surprised look, both equally disgusted.

The woman closed her mouth. She opened it again. She closed it.

“Is… uh. Is that not enough?” Auguste asked. “Certainly I could…” He set another gold coin on the counter.

The woman snatched that up too, looking at them with something odd in her eyes. “You little lords go sit right down, I’ll bring out your breakfast.”

“We’re not- um,” Auguste said but she was already gone, back to the kitchen or whatever was through the door that she’d practically ran through.

They sat at a table, Laurent rousing at the smell of food. Before they knew it the innkeeper was back with pitchers of water and juice and tea, pastries and cut fruits and bacon and eggs and- it was a _ feast. _

“Oh,” Auguste said. “Wow.”

“You need anything else you just let me know,” she said with a pleasant smile before leaving them to their food.

“Damn,” Auguste said.

“Damn,” Laurent said.

Berenger and Auguste were too busy eating to act shocked so Laurent frowned a little and reached for a piece of fruit.

“Careful,” Auguste said, pushing the dish towards him. “Chew, bean. You remember you have to chew.”

Laurent stuck out his tongue in rebellion and shoved a whole orange slice in his mouth before chewing furiously.

Auguste kept an eye on him while he gorged himself, and Berenger wasn’t far behind.

“D’you ever wonder why we ride horses?” Auguste mused once the meal was nearly over.

“What?”

“I mean. Cows. Cows!” Auguste spread his hands wide, his eyes far away. “They’re- you know. _ Big.” _

“They’re slow, I think,” Berenger said, hiding his smile under his hand.

“Big,” Auguste insisted. “Put them in armor and- damn. That’s a cavalry.”

“We should use moose, then,” Berenger said with a small smile.

“Moose?” Auguste asked.

“Moo,” Laurent said.

“They’re big,” Berenger said. “Bigger than horses. Tall. Big antlers. I’ve seen them in the forests in Varenne.”

“It’s decided,” Auguste said. “When you’re my Bannerman- you’ll train me a moose cavalry. The Akielons will shit their chitons.”

“Shit,” Laurent said. “Shit, shit, shit.”

“Shit,” Berenger agreed.

It would be rather grand to ride moose into battle. They were terrifying.

After breakfast they went back outside, wandering the town until they found a man with a horse and a cart, unloading crates in front of the general store.

“I say, my good man,” Auguste said.

“What?” the man asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Um. How much to buy that horse off you?”

“Shove it,” the man said, looking away once more.

“Uh, I see,” Auguste said awkwardly. “Uh. Anyplace you could suggest? We need to buy a horse, you see.”

“Shove it up your ass.”

“Ass,” Laurent repeated. “Ass, ass, assss.”

Auguste bit his lip. They walked away.

“We’ll have to steal a horse then,” he muttered once they were out of ear shot.

_ “Auguste,” _Berenger said incredulously.

“Gus!” Laurent said.

“Well- what else are we to do?” Auguste hissed. “I’m the Crown Prince. I’ll pay them back. Later. It’s an honor, anyway. To help me. It’ll be fine.”

Berenger sighed heavily. He’d been doing that a lot ever since he’d turned ten and come to court for the first time. Ever since he’d met Auguste.

“I suppose,” he muttered. He didn’t doubt Auguste would reimburse the men for the theft. It still felt wrong.

“Let’s go, then.”

Berenger followed Auguste for the next hour as they scoured the small town for horses, and then they found a stable behind a blacksmith’s shop and Auguste handed Laurent off to Berenger, pressing his finger to his lips.

Berenger waited as Auguste snuck inside. For a long time there was nothing, and then there was yelling and Auguste was riding out on a white stallion, bareback.

“Shit,” Berenger bit out.

“Shit!” Laurent said.

Auguste held out his hand.

“Shit!” Laurent repeated happily as Berenger thrust him upwards. Auguste got him settled in his lap and then he was holding out his hand again and Berenger grabbed it as a distraught man wielding a pitchfork ran out, yelling about thievery and bastards.

Auguste heaved Berenger up and then he was mounted on the horse too, wrapping his arms around Auguste’s middle.

“Sorry, my good man!” Auguste cried out, tossing his money purse to the ground. It fell with a jingle, gold coins spilling out of it to glitter in the sunlight.

The man with the pitchfork stopped, staring.

Auguste laughed and dug his heels into the sides of the horse. Laurent laughed too.

Berenger simply held on for dear life and screwed his eyes shut as the horse jerked under them and Auguste turned them down the road, towards home.

“Never again,” he bit out as they sped towards Arles. “Never again.”

“Of course not,” Auguste called out. “Not until next time.”

_ fin. _

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr at [barbitone](http://barbitone.tumblr.com/) and pillowfort also at [barbitone](https://www.pillowfort.io/barbitone)


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